Freya
by Imlivingondreams
Summary: Quick one-shot written a while back, edited to fit the current storyline. May do more if I end up liking the character.


_**AN: I was bored and this is what came out. I wrote most of this before we found out Freya was still alive because I was originally going to put part of this into Give Me Hope but decided to put that story on the back burner until I'm more confident in my writing and a little more patient with myself.**  
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><p><strong>10 Years old<strong>

"Mama!"

Looking up, Dahlia couldn't hold back the wicked grin. There she was. Freya, running at her with a feather through the thick snow and cloak forgotten, had no doubt managed to finally accomplish a simple levitating spell. At only ten she was coming into her heritage. There was magic in her after all.

Dahlia felt pride as her protege ran into her arms, Freya's face full of the glee inside. Finally happy to make her 'mother' proud.

"I did it, Mama!" Freya waved the feather around. "I floated the feather!"

"I am proud." Dahlia's expression became cold. The pride pushed down so nobody in their small village would see. "But you mustn't go shouting about it. We practice, it is known. But we do not speak of it."

The young girl of only ten winters pulled back, looking around her. The few people moving about barely passed them a glance, not wanting to incite the anger of the powerful witch. "I apologize, Mama." Freya looked down ashamed. The excitement of her accomplishment wearing off.

"Now go back inside." Dahlia returned to her task, feeding the massive fire before her. "Continue practicing and soon you will be as strong as I."

Freya left without another word.

Soon, thought Dahlia.

It was true. She did feel proud of the girl who thought her Dahlia's daughter. She loved her to an extent. But it wasn't the love that only a child could show she was after. The power she now knew Freya possessed was what she coveted. Oh, and how great the power would be.

After returning to her home years ago, Dahlia did a simple curse. Taking away the child's memories, she managed to manipulate her mind into believing she was her mother and her father having died of disease. She felt no guilt.

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><p><strong>18 Years Old<br>**

"Mama?"

Dahlia hid the ceremonial knife under her furs. She quickly stood, looking back at the beautiful woman before her. Her blonde hair curled around her face and her blue eyes took in her surroundings. It was clear to her Freya was uneasy about entering the hut.

"What is it, child?" Dahlia asked, walking beside the fire. "Why don't you enter?"

Freya pushed away her anxiety and entered, but stayed against the leather walls. She hesitated before speaking. Raising her chin, she stood tall. "I know what you plan. I've seen it...in my dreams."

"And what did you see my daughter?" Dahlia knelt down pulling the knife back out of the furs. This hadn't been planned.

"You are not my mother!" Her tone was harsh. "I have seen what you will do this night!"

Dahlia laughed. "Of course not. I shall have no man take me nor control me." She turned back to Freya, knife gleaming in the firelight. "Why are you here then if you have foreseen what is to come?"

"I've seen it all. My mother bargained me as if I were nothing more then a form of payment," said Freya, sadly watching the potion boiling over the fire. Then through clenched teeth she said, "I want her to pay."

Dahlia scooped the potion into a small bowl and handed it to the young witch.

"It will hurt," stated Freya. It wasn't a question. She already knew the answer.

"Horribly," she said. "You will take the-"

"I already know," she replied, downing the liquid quickly. She sputtered, choking on the taste. Before she could say anything the knife was brought to her throat.

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><p><strong>New Orleans 1990's<br>**

The loud music made the bar top thump with the beat of the current band. The lights faded in and out and cigarette smoke filled the room. People were vomiting left and right, not able to make it to the bathroom in time due to the long lines. It was nearly closing time and Freya still hadn't found what she was looking for.

"Maybe you were wrong." Dahlia cocked a brow at her.

Freya turned to her, smiling. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm never wrong." How dare she show up after all these years and insult her! Yes, it was the Necromancers who managed to bring her dear aunt back from the afterlife. But this was her domain. Her kingdom. She controlled the witches here. All she needed to do was help Dahlia accomplish what she needed and then she could shove her back into the soil. And then she would have to see to those outcast disgraced witches. Raising the dead? Disgusting.

She took a drag of her cigarette looking around once again. And there she was.

Standing suddenly, she downed the rest of her drink before making her way through the crowd. She stopped at the bar where a shaking woman was ordering another drink. She was clearly high on something. Freya could sense the child in her, not quite old enough to be affected by the woman's stupid decisions yet, her body fighting extra hard to protect the small one. But that wouldn't last long.

Freya smiled kindly at the druggy as she turned around, as if sensing the powerful witch behind her. "Who are you?" she asked harshly. Her brown eyes were heavily dilated and breath stunk of alcohol. She was short with long curly hair that was in a complete disarray and her clothing was definitely not appropriate.

"My name doesn't matter," she said, catching the woman's gaze. "Follow and don't fight me."

Freya caught Dahlia's eyes, letting her know to stay back before she turned to leave the bar. It was her turn to handle this.

She didn't need to turn around to know the irresponsible woman was following her. She led the woman outside and into the alley next to the bar before shoving her against the wall.

"You will answer every question and follow every command," said Freya. The woman nodded. "Do you realize you are pregnant?"

"Yes," she said automatically before shaking her head. She seemed to realize she was being compelled. That shouldn't be possible since she was a witch. She may no longer practice but she should still be immune. "How are you doing this?"

"That doesn't matter," said Freya. "Your child needs you. Why are you doing this to your body and child?"

"I don't have anything." She scoffed before continuing. "My coven outcast me and my husband left me. What's the point?"

Freya watched the woman's internal battle. She didn't want to answer the questions, but it was more about her facing her problems rather then fighting the compulsion. "Let me worry about your coven. Your child gives you the chance to have the family you never had. You could give her a good and happy life. And she _will_ have a good and happy life."

Freya watched the tears build up in her eyes. "You will think of _only_ her and love her unconditionally. You will make sure she practices magic and becomes the most powerful Claire in history. Stop drinking and stop doing drugs. In fact you will _never_ enter another bar. You will see a doctor and enter into a rehab after this. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said, eyes now glazed over.

"Repeat your orders."

"I will only think of my daughter. I will love her unconditionally and make sure she practices magic and becomes the most powerful Claire in history. I will no longer drink or do drugs nor enter another bar. I'm going to go see a doctor and enter into a rehab."

"Good," said Freya, smiling. "You will tell nobody of our meeting. Not your coven and not your daughter. _Nobody_ will ever know."

Freya watched the dazed witch leave as Dahlia stepped out of the bar. "You did well," she said, smiling with pride.

"Of course I did," she replied. "Now what are you doing here?"

"Why did you do it?"

"For my brother. That's all you need to know."

"Watch yourself, child," her aunt said, threateningly. "Remember who you speak with."

Freya noticed her nod at something over her shoulder. Turning around she saw a small group of people standing behind her. Refusing to allow herself any moment of panic she immediately turned back to her aunt only to have a cloud of dust enter through her nose. Falling to the ground her lungs contracted harshly. She tried fighting, but her conscious was fading too quickly.

xxxxx

Dahlia knelt beside her niece. "I'm sorry, but you're becoming more of a nuisance with each passing day. They will take care of you." She took the black rosary from her pocket, wrapping it around Freya's wrists and chanting.

"Will it hold her?"

She looked back at the necromancer who was responsible for her presence. "Do you dare question me?" she snarled, eyes blazing. The power came off the dead witch in waves. The woman looked down and backed away, the fear evident. "Never again."

Dahlia looked down at the blonde witch. She looked peaceful, which the older witch knew was the complete opposite of the thoughts and fears surely currently plaguing her mind. The spell would keep her alive and very much aware of her surroundings but she wouldn't be able to move or speak. She was trapped inside her own mind. It was a fate worse then death.

"You will need to trap her in the asylum-no other witch would dare to enter. Do not allow the rosary to be removed."

"We understand," said the woman, still avoiding the stronger witches gaze.

"Goodbye my sweet." Dahlia placed a kiss on her forehead before she vanished from the alley.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Let me know by following or reviewing if you want anything else out of this. If I end up liking the character I may do some more one-shots.<strong>_


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